


May, June, July

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-07-17
Updated: 2002-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-01 09:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months, two boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May, June, July

## May, June, July

by JC Sun

<http://joyce.jteers.net/fanfiction/>

* * *

Clark must have left bed soon after Lex fell asleep, because when Lex wakes up the bed is cold. Clark's things are neatly put away and the empty duffle bag is folded on the chair, but Clark isn't in the room. Lex's heart stops for a moment, but then he realizes that Clark's outside -- perched up higher in a tree than any person with his body mass really can be, the moon running around his shoulders and through his hair and in those eyes that are still beautiful even though they've gone black in the night. Lex opens the window. 

"You're going to freeze to death out there." 

Clark turns around. "Haven't you learned yet? I don't get sick." 

"You can freeze without getting sick. You're only sixteen, after all." 

"Maybe." Clark hops twenty feet down, and all of a sudden, the moonlight is above and Lex is looking down onto that broad-cheeked face. The eyes are still black and shiny-dark, though, and after a while, Clark just turns his head and looks down the curve of the lawn. "It's the middle of July, though. I don't think I need to worry." 

* 

Expensive import cars aren't made to hold boys like Clark. There's just too much leg and shoulder to them and not enough space inside the car. Sooner or later, they just end up spilling outside the car with Lex stripping the shirt off Clark's body and wondering how a high school boy can have shoulders as broad as the windshield of a six digit car. He gets to compare close-up. Puts Clark's head on the windshield wiper and stretches Clark's torso down the hot hood and dangles the thighs in front of the grill -- it's quite hot, actually, but Clark doesn't make a noise until Lex touches his bare mouth to the skin on his stomach. 

He makes this breathy kind of noise, then, and Clark says, "My parents are going to worry." 

"They have a son like you, and they still worry?" 

"They're going to kill me." 

"Right." 

Lex wonders many June nights there are like this too in a life time, so soft and damp but fireflyless. A forest, a gravel road, and right after the headlights completely fade and before his vision adjusts, while he's getting down on his knees in front of Clark, Lex gets this flash of Clark's face as this blur of color and shape. 

* 

Cars. Runaway trains, burning barns. Clark catching Lex, falling off a cliff, falling off a bridge, falling out of life. A year, nine months of that, the month of May now, and they're sitting on a fence in the Kent yard with the kitchen light shining down on both of them. It colors up half of Clark's face, throws the other half into darkness. 

Lex is due to go in a few minutes: dinner's being served, and Jonathan will be back for that, but for now, Martha's safely in the kitchen, and Clark's braced against the fence. He tilts his throat back, and Lex looks at that beautiful line for a little bit, and then Clark says, "So there you go. That's the story of my life." 

"A spaceship in a dusty barn? I _hardly_ think so." Lex pulls his eyes away from Clark and folds his hands in his lap. He's actually sitting on the fence post whereas Clark is just kinda leaning against it. Not with his whole weight, though -- Lex felt that this afternoon, when Clark had suddenly just stumbled against him, and the weight had been impossibly heavy, had crushed Lex to the floor. Ever since, he's watched the impression that Clark's footsteps leave in the ground and is convinced that they last just a little bit longer than the footsteps of normal people. "I'm sure there's more to you than that. Look at all the lives you've changed -- for the better." 

Clark turns, looks at the tractors and the pickup, the station wagon and the Porsche in the driveway. When he turns his head back again, his eyes are strangely dark -- much darker than they usually are in this lighting. His face has this strange intensity. 

Lex has never been aware of anything so much as the feeling of Clark drawing closer, so close that there's a prickle up and down his skin and so close that his eyes lose focus. Lex has never been so sure that he's about to be kissed, actually. He knows that he ought to do the decent thing and close his eyes so Clark can just kiss him, but instead, he keeps his open and tries to keep watch. 


End file.
